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u 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRAKY 
OUVEttiTY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SAN 
-*  IA  JOLLA.  CALIFORNIA 


THE    ROMAUNT 


OF 


LADY  HELEN  CLYDE 


BY 


ABRAM  LENT  SMITH. 


'Aye  me  !  for  aught  that  I  could  ever  rend, 
Could  ever  hear  by  tale  or  history, 
The  course  of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth." 


NEW  YORK : 

CHARLES  T.  DILLINGHAM. 
1882. 


COPYHICHTU) 

1882 
»T  AJHASI    Lt.NT    8! 


Engravers 


LADY  HELEN  CLYDE 


Dedicated  to  my  friend,  Richard  Henry  Stoddard, 
to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  one  long  series  of  kind 
nesses,  from  our  friendships  beginning. 


THTAVE   you    leisure  for   a  story  ?      Listen   to  this 

song   I  sing  you  ; 
Draw  your  chair  beside  the  fire  ;    heap  the  irons 

with  wood  well  dried  : 
And  as  upward  leap  the  blazes,  from  the  long  ago  I'll 

bring  you 

Memories    of  the    hapless    love    of   Lady    Helen 
Clyde. 


Pure  and  fair,  of   queenly  bearing,  she  was  like  the 

stately  lilies  ; 
Some  were    wont    to    call    her   haughty,  but  the 

word  was  ill  applied  ; 
Lovely    as    the    Houris    was    she,    graceful    as    the 

daffodillies  ; 

And  her  eyes  were  so  bewitching,  suitors  came 
from  far  and  wide. 


With    her    father,    proud    and    noble,    lived    she    in    a 

stately  palace, 

(Years  agone  her  mother  left  her  for  a  brighter, 
happier  sphere)  : 

• 

Thus  she  reigned  its  only  mistress,  but  that  draught 

from  Sorrow's  chalice 

Filled  her  youthful  life  with  care, — brought  melan 
choly  near. 


iwllJI^JftP 

i,af/-^JL  "#    1  -f*'.  >.« 


4 

But  to  mitigate  her  sorrow,  to  divert  his  child  from 

dreaming, 
Lord  Clyde  thronged  his  spacious  mansion  with 

the  noble  and  the  great, 
And  with  music,  art,  and  dancing,  strove  to  win  the 

native  beaming 

Back   into  her  tear-dimmed  eyes,  and  make   her 
heart  elate. 

5 

And    this   was  wise,   for  oftentimes  her   spirit   would 
grow  lighter, 

Her  cheeks  would  flush  to  crimson,  her  eves  like 
» 

stars  would  burn  ; 
And  overjoyed  her  father  was,  whene'er  her  face  grew 

brighter, 

But  too  steeped  in  worldly  matters  the  true  secret 
to  discern. 


There  was  one  among  the  many  whom  she  loved,  but 

scarce  revealed  it, 
And   this  one   among  the   many  also   loved    but 

dare  not  speak ; 
Me    was    but    an    humble    artist,    without    riches, — so 

concealed  it, 

Hid  the  love  that  thrilled  his  heart,  and  mantled 
in  his  glowing  cheek. 

7 

And  he  longed  to  paint  her  picture,  so  one  day  the 

honor  asked  her, 
And  with  all   the  coy  abandon  of  a   nymph  she 

said,   "  you  may  ;  " 
Then  \vith  brain  and  bosom  fired,  he  each  day  an  hour 

tasked  her 

'Til  liis  beauteous  creation  stood  out  peerless  in 
array. 


8 

But  I   doubt   much,  if  with  weariness  she   ever  were 

less  laden, 
Than  while  with  her  artist-lover,  as  each  day  his 

genius  strove 
To  portray  the   ethereal   features  of  this  more   than 

lovely  maiden  ; 

For    'twas    during    these    bright    hours,    that    he 
whispered  of  his  love. 


As  she  hearkened  to  his  story — O  !  to  her  'twas  music 

rarest, 
Sweeter  than  the  woodland's  chorus  showered  on 

the  fragrant  breeze  ; 
O  !  they  loved  as  such  souls  can  love — deep — as  did 

those  four  the  fairest, 

Hero    and     her    brave    Leander,    Abailard    and 
Heloise. 


10 

Never  were  there  two  more  suited  in  this  world  for 

one  another  ; 
Both    had    souls    filled    with    the    beautiful,    had 

natures,  noble  given  ; 
He  was  fashioned  Ganymede-like,  and  appeared   her 

spirit's  brother  ; 

She  had  form  akin  to  angels,  and  seemed  less  of 
earth  than  heaven. 

1 1 

But  there   was  a  cruel   distance   'twixt   these   lovers' 

different  stations  ; 
She  was  bred  a  noble  lady,  he  was  but  a  peasant 

born  ; 

And  her  proud  and  haughty  father  ne'er  would  sanc 
tion  such  relations, 

To  degrade   the   princely  honors  of  his  line,  his 
soul  would  scorn. 


12 

Time    on    agile    wings    sped    swiftly,    months    rolled 

onward  into  seasons, 
And  a  score  of  high-born  suitors  for  her  hand  had 

been  denied  ; 
But  so  kind  and  gentle  was  she,  each  one  felt  mayhap 

her  reasons 

Might  evanish  and  be  o'ercome  if  he  lingered  by 
her  side. 

13 

But  her  vain,  ambitious  father,  to  advance  his  family 

honor, 
Urged  the  wooing  of  a  rich  and  noble  Duke  of 

high  degree  ; 
He    had    ships    and    costly  manors,    he    had    gold    to 

cast  upon  her, 

And    he   lived   in   regal    splendor  in   a  castle   by 
the  sea. 


14 

So  this   Duke,   bestarred  and  gartered,   Lady   Helen 

grandly  courted, 
Brought  her  necklaces  of  rubies,  precious  pearls 

and  diamonds  rare  ; 
Said  she  should  become  his  consort  (never  dreaming 

to  be  thwarted), 

Said  her  life  should  be  all  sunshine,  alien  to  all 
grief  and  care. 

15 

But  to  this  proud  Duke's  amazement,  (and  her  father's 

great  displeasure), 
Lady  Helen  calmly  told  him,  that  she  could  not 

be  his  bride, 
Courteously   refused    his    presents,   and    in    words    of 

friendly  measure, 

Hoped  he'd  wed  with  one  more  worthy — gently 
thus  his  suit  denied. 


i6 

With    choleric    indignation,    Lord    Clyde    asked    his 

lovely  daughter, 

Why  her   will   to   his   ran   counter,  why   she   did 
not  acquiesce  ? 

Swore  she  ne'er  should  wed  another,  that  her  willful 
ness  and  hauteur 

Yet    would    bring    disgrace    upon    her,    mar    her 
future  happiness  ! 

17 

"  Father,"  said  she,  with  a  meekness  worthy  of  a  soul 

seraphic, 
"Would  you  have  me   wed  a  husband,  who  can 

offer  naught  but  gold  ? 
One   who    values    not    love's    dower,    only   dreams   of 

ships  and  traffic  ? 

No — I'm    sure    you    would    not,   father,   have    me 
into  slavery  sold." 


i8 

"Tush!  my  child  !  they'll  prove  your  ruin,  such  fan 
tastic  speculations; 
Know  you  not  the  Duke  has  riches,  which  your 

wants  would  more  than  sate  ? 
Think  how  great  would  be  your  honors,  and  where'er 

you  went,  ovations 

Would  be  rendered  if  you  wisely  linked  yourself 
with  such  a  mate." 

19 

"Praise   is  but  a  bubble,  father — wealth  perhaps  may 

prove  no  treasure, 
But  a  soul  with  true  love  pulsing,  is  a  thing  that 

never  dies  ; 
Noble    deeds,     not     gold,    make     greatness  ;    loving 

hearts,  not  titles,  measure 

Claims    to    happiness    on    earth,    or  joy   beyond 
the  skies." 


2O 

"  Helen,"  said  her  father,  "  hear  me  ;  banish  from  your 

mind  forever 
All    such   sentimental    notions — they   will    bring 

you,  child,  but  ill  !  " 
But  with  sweetness,  yet  with   firmness,   Lady  Helen 

answered,  "  Never ! 

Never,  father,  'till  my  heart   shall  in  this  breast 
be  still  ! 

21 

"Hear   me,  father,  hear  my  story;    there   is   one    I'll 

wed  or  no  man  ; 
I  would  rather  choose  a  cottage  than  a  castle  by 

the  sea  ! 
Is  he  noble  ?     Aye,  believe  me,  noble  as  the  noblest 

Roman — 

Father,  'tis  our  gifted  friend,  the  artist,  Mortimer 
Du  Vee." 


22 

"  Silence,  girl  !  "  exclaimed  her   Either,   "  never   shall 

your  wish  be  granted  ! 
Rather  would  I  see  you  lying,  cola  and  still,  to 

wake  no  more  ; 
He   shall    leave  our  home   this   moment,  he  who  has 

your  wits  enchanted, 

And    he    ne'er    again    as    guest    shall    cross    the 
threshold  of  our  door  !  " 

23 

With    an    eloquence    of    silence    and    a    rhetoric     of 

sadness, 
Helen    gazed    upon   her   father   for  a  while — then 

softly  said : 
"  Be  it  so  !  "      Twas  all  she  uttered  ;    but,  alas  !    the 

wonted  gladness 

Ne'er   regained   its   old    dominion ;    for   her   heart 
in  secret  bled. 


24 

All    that     night    within    her    chamber    Lady    Helen, 

broken-hearted, 
Watched  the  moonbeams  weirdly  falling  on  the 

silver  waves  below  ; 
Thought  and  wept  about  her  lover,  who  that  evening 

had  departed, 

And     the     great,    pure     stars    in    heaven     paled 
beneath  her  hopeless  woe. 

25 

Months  rolled  on,  but   brought  no  tidings    from   the 

hero  of  our  story ; 

Day  by  day  sweet   Lady  Helen's  face   did   thin 
ner,  paler    grow  ; 
'Til  she  heard  the  angels  call  her  from  the  gleaming 

gates  of  glory, 

When    she    whispered,    "  Father,    kiss    me    once 
again  before  I  go." 


26 

But   the   proud   old  man   was  ireful — did  not   see   his 

child  was  drooping 
Like  a  parched  and  pallid  lily,  for  the  water  he 

might  give. 
"  Ere    you   go  ?     What    is   your    meaning;  what    new 

riddles  are  you  grouping  ? 

Do    you    think    to'    leave    our    palace — in    some 
humbler    place    to    live?" 

27 

"Yes,  I  think  to  leave  it,  father;  but  I  go  to  one  far 

dearer, 
Grander,  richer,  and  more  lovely  than  I  e'er  have 

seen  before  ; 
In   my  dreams  last  night  I  saw  it,  and  I  feel  to-day 

I'm  nearer 

To  the  home  of  the  Immortals,  than   1  e'er  have 
been  before." 


28 

Like  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning,  on  a  night  of  darkness 

utter, 
Flashed  the   truth  on    his    proud    spirit   that   her 

life  was  ebbing  fast  ; 
Thin   and    pale   he   saw  her   face  was,  and   his   heart 

began  to  flutter 

As  he  marvelled  at  his  blindness,  now  the  truth 
was  seen  at  last. 

29 

Long   he   gazed   in   silence  at  her,  then  on   brow  of 

fever  kissed  her  ; 
Said,  with    voice  of   deep    contrition,     "Is    there 

aught  that  I  can  do? 
Name  it,  darling,  never  fearing" — and  the  tears  began 

to  ;  lister, 

As    remorseful    thought,   unsparing,   brought    the 
cruel  past  to  view. 


30 

"Bend  thine  ear,  I  have  a  message;  draw  your  chair 

beside  me,  nigher— 
Hark  !  methinks  I  hear  his  footsteps  borne  upon 

the  passing  wind  ? 

No — 'twas  my  disordered  fancy — father,  draw  the  cur 
tain  higher, 

For    the    light    is    growing    dim :    your    hand     I 
cannot  find ! 

31 

"There!    now  listen    to    me,  father, — when   the    last 

sleep  I  am  sleeping, 
Take  this  packet  that  I  give  you,  and  if  lie  still 

lives  below, 
Send  it — whatsoe'er   the   distance — there  !    I    leave   it 

in  your  keeping — 

'Tis  a  note,  with  some  few  trinkets,  that  he  gave 
me  long  ago." 


32 

"Helen,  I  will  do  it   for  you,  do  it   with  a  heartfelt 

gladness — 
O !   Remorse,  thy  sting  is    bitter ;   would   that    I 

could  flee  thee,  far  ! 
What  a  wretched  man  I  must  be,  to  surround  my  child 

with  sadness, 

'Til    the    angels,    out    of    pity,    steal     away    my 
morning  star!  " 


33 

Long    he    stood    in    thought  ;    then    quickly    left    the 

room  with  footsteps  hurried — 
Soon  a  courier,  under  orders,  dashed  out  through 

the  palace  gate  : — 
Lord  Clyde  watched  his  faithful  servant,  for  his  heart 

was  sorely  worried — 

Much  he  feared  he  could  not  bring  her  lover  ere 
it  was  too  late. 


34 

All   that   night  'twould  take  to    reach    him ;    but   by 

sunset  on  the  morrow, 
Circumstances  all  propitious,  Mortimer  could  with 

them  be  : 
So  when  next  day  waned  to  evening,  Lord  Clyde  hope 

began  to  borrow  ; 

For  his    child  was   yet    alive,  and    Helen's   lover 
near  must  be  ! 

35 

"Cheer  up,  Helen,"   said  her  father,    "Mortimer   Du 

Vee  is  flying, 
Just    as   fast    as   my  fleet    charger   can    transport 

him  from  the  main  ; 
But   too   long   I  know  I've    waited  ;    for,  my  child,  I 

fear  you're  dying, 

And   I  fain  would   have    you,   Helen,  meet   your 
lover  once  again." 


36 

"  I    have    cruel    been,   my  daughter,    and    I    would   I 

could  undo  it  ! 
I  had  hoped  to  have  you  marry  with  that  Duke 

of  high  degree  ; 
But  my  course  was  wrong — I  see  it  !  as  I  sadly  now 

review  it, 

And    I   would   to   God    you'd    married  with   your 
artist-love,   Du  Vee  !  " 

37 

Helen  gazed  upon  her  father,  smiled,  and  in  a  voice 

keyed  sweetly, 
Said,  "  You've  made  me  very  happy,  and  I  now 

can  calmly  die. 
Hark  !    dear    father,    he    is    coming  — some    one    rides 

the  roadway  fleetly — 

No  !    it    is    no    airy    fancy,    for    I    feel    his    spirit 
ni<rh." 


38 

Up  her  father  sprang ;   for  surely,  some  one  rode  at 

rate  most  furious 
O'er    the    bridge,   and    through  the    gateway,   up 

the  path  to  castle  door  ; 
Then    a    page    in    waiting    entered,    with    a    look    of 

wonder  curious, 

Gave   "My  lord"  a  slip  of  paper — on  it   "Mor 
timer —  "  no  more. 

39 

"  Show  him  in,"  said  Lord  Clyde,  quickly ;  "hasten — 

time  is  very  precious  ! " 
Soon  a  form  of  manly  bearing  stood  within   the 

sick-room  door. 
Lord   Clyde  pointed  to  his  daughter,  gave   his   hand 

in  welcome  gracious, 

"Hasten."  said  he,  "to  her  bedside,  for  she  soon 
will  be  no  more." 


40 

Helen  recognized  her  lover,  as  he  tenderly  bent  o'er 

her, 
And    she    gave    her    hand    in    welcome,    and    he 

kissed  it  o'er  and  o'er  ; 
Smoothed   aback  her  golden   tresses,   asked  if  aught 

he  could  do  for  her-  — 

"Only  this,"  she  sweetly  murmured  —  "meet   me 
on  the  other  shore. 


"  Hark  !    what    means   that    burst    of    music  ?     See  ! 

they're  waiting  to  receive  me  ! 
Don't  you  see   them  ?    soft  —  they're   calling  —  ah  ! 

how  light  it  grows,"  she  cried. 
"O!  what  beauty  —  Hark!  the  music  —  farewell,  father; 

now  I  leave  thee  ! 

Farewell,  Mortimer,"  she  whispered  —  and  within 
his  arms  she  died. 


42 

What  more  would   you   have    me  tell   you  ?     I   might 

make  the  story  longer, 
But  the  wood  is  burned  to  embers  and  the  hour 

is  waxing  late — 
Partings   here   are   not   forever ;   true   love   is  a  thing 

far  stronger 

Than   all    time   can  ever  weaken    or   chill    death 
can  dissipate. 

43 

And  the  losses  and  the  crosses,  in  this  world  by  sor 
row  nighted, 
Blossom  into  fair  fruition  just  beyond  the  mystic 

sea, — 
Where    true   hearts   that    here  were    plighted   and   by 

circumstances  blighted, 
Will  forever  be  united  thro'  a  vast  Eternity. 


w 


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